The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. Del was bored. He had a motorbike, lots of biker friends and weektly trips to sate his need for the aforementioned and yet there was something missing. More bends perhaps? Different bends? Foreign bends? Careful, meticulous and lengthy planning was initiated. There could be no rush. Everything must be planned with military precision. Just like a presedential campaign. The right moment had to be chosen to announce the plan. A wrong move and his brainchild would be subject to the usual CRRG derision and result in solitary cornering. What is such skill without friends to admire them...........from behind......and afar.

The day of revelation of his great invasion plan had arrived. At the usual CRRG spin to YAFA, breakfast consumed, Del searched in vain for the back of the envelope. Like all good generals, in the absence of his plan he decided to wing it or lose the opportunity to strike and fade into oblivion. With confidence befitting a UKIP leader, the plan was unleashed. "Eh lads, I'm thinking of going to Wales for a weekend, anybody interested?". The lads briefly glanced with incredulous interest at the audacity of such a plan. Details were sought to allay their disbelief. Del summarised, "hop a ferry from Rosslare to Fishguard, drive to Snowdonia, visit an old slate mine, next day drive to Holyhead and boat home and we can find a place to kip along the way, meet at camp NMK at 6.45AM sharp". Acknowledging his vision, Dub signed up straight away. After some thought and the lack of all Ireland football tickets, Paul was next and shortly followed by JP. The four horsemen were bringing their apocalypse to Wales.

Timeshare Bike.......

Invasion day arrived. The fleet merged at various points along the route to meet general Del sharp at 6.45AM. Dub and Paul arrived at the appointed Topaz service station at camp NMK to find JP already there. Not a sign of Del to be seen. Speculation was rife amongst the troops. Slept it out. He was at the wrong garage, the one across the street perhaps. The most likely explanation was he was waiting to make a grand entrance to inspect the troops and have a smoke. The truth was more bizarre. A Yamaha Fazer pulls into the station. We all thougth, "typical Mick, decided to go at the last minute, keep stum and steal the general's thunder". The dismount came with panache. The rider approached and removed his helmet to reveal............Del. It transpired that his trusty Pan had panned and his best mate Mick lent him his Yamaha on condition it came back in better condition and there were to be hourly reports sent back on the state of the bike with timestamped pictures for evidence. Del had a timeshare bike. Mick would have been proud of Del's mission statement. "We are going to Wales for sightseeing and to enjoy ourselves. We will stick to the speed limit and enjoy the scenery as it unfolds and we will all get back in one piece". Oratory befitting Cicero.

A Pensioners Trick......

We made short work work of the trip to Rosslare on the bright but slightly chilly morning and admired the unhurried Irish sunrise along the way. We stuffed the bikes with petrol and proceeded to the ticket office to book passage to Aldershot. Del did the negotiating. The ferry capable of doing the Kessel run in less than 200 parsecs was unavailable. Aldershot was out so Del got a reduction in the fare to Wales. I thought he used a Jedi mind techinque but instead it was the tried and trusted Irish Pensioners trick. Either way the few quid was saved to go towards the hearty breakfast on the ferry.

French Polished Sea....

The crossing was smooth and uneventful. If the ferry pitched yawed or rolled by as much as a degree I would be very surprised. We even tried to spot it once or twice. It was as if someone French Polished the sea for us. The only give away was the faint throb of the ancient diesel engines somewhere down below where foot passengers were stored. It was either that or JP's bowels after the breakfast. The time was passed by promenading around the upper decks and listening to stories from a former Mountie on how 90 year olds play rugby. He left out the bit about bibs and incontinent shorts.

Twisties

Disembarking was relatively easy for those without short legs and light bikes which would have been an advantage going up a very steep ramp with a nasty angle on it. Derek was disappointed there was traffic on it. He now dug out his smart phone with the route all programmed in. Now the observant reader will have spotted this coming. His timeshare bike had no mounting for phones or satnavs. Not a ball joint in sight. The only ones he brought were tucked safely in a sock in his jocks to keep them warm. That said, he did not need it to find his favourite landmark. He brought us along the coast road via a cornucopia of curves, a bevvy of beautiful bends, curvacious corners and a treasure trove of twisties. Since I returned I phoned my sponsor, Alan, and am back at A.A. (Alliteration Anonymous). We passed through many a quaint Welsh village and Derek even ferrited out a nice place for lunch before heading on to our digs.

Thunderbird 5

Now that Derek's smartphone was as mental mobile, I had to put our destination into the satnav. Welsh place names are always typed with the "L" key jammed. We were heading to Dolgellau, spelt D oul hack snort spit hock cough ow. Sounds like it anyway. I got through an entire pack of Mentholyptus over the next two days to clear that up. My poor satnav thought I was a Klingon. We took our time getting to our lodgings. There was no choice because the lads were following me for a change. The weather was ideal for biking and our pace was perfect for admiring the best scenery any country could offer. Thunderbird 5 was clearly visible so John Tracey fed the coordinates for Kings Hostel direct to my satnav. That last mile or so up to the place was suitable for GS riders so we took it handy. Thank god it was dry.

Bikes were soon abandoned in an orderly manner and before we knew it, Mick had us checked in and booked for dinner, drinks and breakfast. Food, gargle and beds are well up to standard fit for visiting four horsemen of the apocalypse. We had a generous dinner, plenty of drinks and a hearty breakfast with an abundance of extra beans and still had change from a farthing. I don't drink so I retired early but was kept awake by the sounds of the other hosemen belching, snoring, farting and scratching the contents of their clacker bags. JP was first to rise and complained that he was kept awake by the three of us belching, snoring and farting. Paul arose next and complained he could not sleep due to the badly tuned band of belching, snoring and farting. Derek wondered what all the fuss was about. He turned off his hearing aid.

Derek was first to the courtyard with a towel he brought specially to clean the timeshare bike. JP gave his the once over while Paul did not need to as the dirt was afraid of the brand new Yammy. I wasn't arsed. We left the track slowly and headed to D oul hack snort spit hock cough ow. It was closed. Derek found a place open where he could load up with water and smokes. I loaded another unpronouncable place into the sat nav and we headed off down country roads to half way to wherever it was. We passed the dog asleep in the middle of the road and stopped in a small town packed full of Sunday drivers. We dumped the bikes by the side of the road and had coffee in a small cafe. Beautiful spot full of tree huggers, English Toffs, lapsed hippies and old women with dogs named Topsie. Derek's plan was to visit the Llecwedd slate mine so off we went back up the same road, passed the sleeping dog in the middle of the road and got lost.

Dying for a S....

We were smack bang in the middle of Blaenau Ffestiniog arguing over which direction to take when I had a glimmer of inspiration. It turned out that the mine was in the Points of Interest section on my satnav so once I selected it, it brought us right to the entrance. I got lost somewhere between the entrance and the pay in office. If you are ever in the vicinity of Gwynedd a visit and tour of this mine is well worth the effort. The tour we received four hundred feet below the surface was entertaining, terrifying, moving and edifying. Describing it here would not do it justice. Go and see it for yourself. I intend to return and see it again someday. When we surfaced the lads went to the coffee shop. I went looking for somewhere quiet. After all the excitement, I was dying for a sh***. When I got back I was surprised the lads waited that long and they even found me a mince pie.

It was Shut...

Llechwedd Slate Mine was the highlight of the trip. After that it was a slow coast back towards the ferry. We stopped of in Betws-y-Coed for a smoke break and stayed a while enjoying the procession of cruising old cars, Harleys and all manner of transport out for a leisurely spin. Apparently this happens every Sunday in Betws-y-Coed. Caernarfon Castle was punched into the sat nav and off we went. The scenery on that back road through the valley was jaw droppingly stunning. The road was full of bends. Derek had multiple orgasms. He was taking it handy because Mick told him that the timeshare FJR doesn't take corners properly. When we arrived at Caernarfon Castle, it was shut. It was starting to rain so Derek gave me a list of waypoints along the coast route to Holyhead.

A little Rain...

We gave ourselves plenty of time to get to Holyhead. The obligatory pint was consumed before a leisurely boarding. The trip home was as pleasant as the trip out, ferry food was acceptable, the company was excellent and the water was smooth. Derek confided in us that he repaired the problem with his timshare bike. It now takes corners. To summarise, the planning was the work of pure genius. Turn up with a bike. Bring a towel and a change of jocks, petrol and drink money and let rip. Keep the plan simple. There was a minor incident in Betws-y-Coed which was handled with stoicism and panache befitting a CRRG member. The details of this are staying in Wales. It is sufficient to say that a little rain falls on every trip but the people involved deserve the utmost admiration for the way they handled themselves. I salute them.

I am eagerly awaiting Derek's next invasion.

Dub.

CRRG 2ndAnnual Roadtrip (Convoy) to Christy & Ger

Rosslare - August 2016

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in posession of a good bike must be in need of travelling companions. There is nothing comparable to the unique comeraderie between biking companions. It's a question often asked by non-bikers and those new to powered two wheeled transport to explain this visible bond between members of the biking fraternity. The casual nod, the flash of the headlight to warn of approaching speed vans, the brief lift of the leg from the peg and the willingness to stop and lend a hand. Those who have been on bikes for a significant portion of their lives accept it for the gift that it is.

An event that reminds us all of this in the CRRG and brings us together in the greatest posse of bikes on a trip for the year, every year, is the annual convoy to Christy & Ger's holiday home in Rosslare. An unfortunate accident on the bike brought a sudden end to his attendance on rideouts. Thankfully he was made a near full recovery and still has an interest in bikes and looks forward to his pals gathering together to wish him well and eat all his wife Ger's food.

Our trip began at the usual lager point in Tallaght, Dublin with the order issued from on high to arrange the 13 bikes in a straight line at the garage, facing the same direction with the front wheel forward. It should have been known by now that organising bikers, most of whom are Celtic Bikers with the occasional Italian and Pole thrown in, is a task akin to attempting to get a pack of deaf hunting hounds to sit. The result looked like a backstreet motorcycle mechanics garage on a Monday morning after advertising a special for couriers. Bikes abandoned everywhere. The only difference is ours are slightly better maintained. After the obligatory wait, the smoking and non-smoking groups merged for the trip down to Ballon for breakfast in The Forge, one of our favourite places on the planet for breakfast mainly due to the lady that runs it loves to see us coming and has tables reserved for us. Although there was sixteen of us, breakfast was up to the usual delicious standards and ran like clockwork. One would imagine that at this stage the parking would have improved as there was acres more space for bike positioning. You can judge for yourselves but before you do, just remember that this is not all of the bikes. At least two are out of the picture and at the other side of the car park. It can be clearly seen that there is some debate on merits of proper ethical parking.

Bellys full, armoured jackets and leggings adjusted and lower bowel gas ejected, we headed off to Rosslare. We had ideal Irish biking weather. It was like John's humour.....dry. Apart for the occasional small town traffic jams, the trip south was enjoyable generally speaking, good time was made by all to our next lager point, Lady's Island, Rosslare. Our Lady's Island is a location of zero significance or interest to anyone who is not retarded or who is not in posession of a restricted bike and a learner's tabard. It has an ice cream shop, a church and a toilet. The toilet was shut due to bad aiming on the part of the locals, we had no time for ice cream and nobody was being married christened or dead. There is an old Gaelic word which eloquently describes such a place............KIP. How Alan found anything interesting to photograph while streatching his legs I will never know. The sermon of the day was a quote from Catherine of Sienna. "If you are what you should be, you can set the world on fire". Well I was what I should have been..............bored, but I left my arson kit at home. We did however rendezvous with our good friend Johnners and headed off. I made good use of my time management skills to take the following photograph. I wonder if it is divine inspiration for Ireland in a post Brexit era.

If I could quote Einstein, that would be really clever. To paraphrase his general theory of relativity applied to bikers, time spent bored, motionless and in a place of heavy gravity (kip to us Dubliners) passes slowly and those sophoric minutes seem like aeons while time spent moving on a motorcycle passes all too quickly in proportion to its enjoyment. So we set off after a few thousand years and headed to Christy's gated holiday camp. Praise be to Alan up to now as he achieved something more wonderous than Hannibal leading an army of elephants over the alps to do battle with the Romans. He lead the entire convoy from Dublin to Our Lady's Island without losing the last rider from from view in his rear view mirror. It's even more phenomenal than getting a four Euro chicken from Aldi when you consider the mirror on those huge BMW bikes is so small.

After a brief spin through the town, we were there. All ten arrived to clear immigration and security to get passed the locked gates of Christy's paradise. I did say ten bikes three bikes including The Leader who had been there before, who never gets lost and had a pillion for direction and a satnav, got lost. They never spotted the event horizon and vanished into a black hole or un-signposted Irish bog roads and to make things worse, nobody noticed. After security clearance, the gates began to slide open slowly to the theme tune of Thunderbirds running through my head and the sound of twelve snarling bikes ready to launch at Mondello Park. We revved the nuts off the bikes to scare all the kids but the louder we revved the more the little tikes enjoyed it. We carefully arranged the bikes artistically to look a Salvador Dali painting. The welcome we got from Christy, Ger and all the inhabitants was truly legendary. It was heartening to see so many, the majority in fact, of CRRG members taking the time to visit one of our own. Even the neighbours helped Ger with baking the cakes and making the sandwiches. I had sent word ahead that they would all be murdered in their beds and their children sold into slavery if there wasn't proper tribut paid and respect shown. All the good stuff was eaten quickly or stuffed into panniers before Alan arrived. Gallons of tea was served to all by Ger along with apple tart worthy of someone who sits on the Iron Throne. Alan presented Christy with a memento of the occasion and a special guest turned up to wish him well.

We spent a couple of hours enjoying Christy and Ger's hospitality and catching up on all the goss. For me it was the highlight of the years trips so far. Unfortunately, Christy's mobile home was not big enough to cater for fourteen smelly bikers and me so the time came to leave. Daragh was delighted as he gained second opportunity to try and scare the children. This time the soundtrack was the Imperial March from Star Wars as we hit the long road back to Dublin. Next years trip can't come soon enough.

Dubmark

CRRG Dublin - September 2013 road trip to France and Spain

Saturday 31/8/13

The group headed off on a beautiful summer Saturday morning from the Red Cow in Dublin to board the Pont Aven Ferry ship in Cork. Motorbikes loaded to the hilt with sleeping bags, tents, tools, gas stoves, GPS and the best torch. We had an easy drive down with some obligatory smoking stops. We arrived in Cork without a hitch and in plenty of time. When we arrived we obeyed the instructions of the Ferry Company and queued in plenty of time for the 4pm departure. While chit chatting, more smoking and pre-empting our adventure ahead someone appeared from the masses of enthusiastic travellers. Was it a bird? was it a plane? no, no it was the seasoned traveller Mick O'Shea who decided to surprise us and join up on the trip. What a great start to the trip we were all delighted to see him.
The banter was fantastic and the stories of how Mick had been able to keep this piece of info from the other travellers and how it was only finalised on the last minute and as a result poor Mick had to do with a sleeping chair rather than a snug cabin with a 'bed'. The Ferry company were very organised and before we knew it the motor bikes were all on board with bikers standing on the deck drinking beer and watching the rest of the 4 wheeled vehicles load up. Once we set sail there was nothing for it but to get another pint and do some sunbathing and shoot the breeze. A couple of hours later the captain over the PA mentioned that there were whales to be seen on the port side of the ship. Wow I had never actually seen a whale up close and it did not happen that day either. I did get some
good views of the whales blowing jets of water into the air through their blow holes but unfortunately none really surfaced above the sea. Never the less the excitement was great with every onlooker trying to get a picture of anything at all. Later we had a grand dinner in one of the cafe restaurants with everyone treating themselves to a nice French desert.

Sunday 1/9/13

We awoke early packed up our belongings and headed down to join the rabble of other travellers heading to their cars, bikes and motor homes. On exiting the ship we were delighted to be welcomed by bright blue skies. We headed off on some nice country roads and through some shaded forested roads which reminded us of how early in the morning it was because in the shade it was bloody freezing. Passed through some tiny sleepy towns and eventually came across a beautiful little sunny cafe which was also a bakery shop. We stopped there and had coffee, croissants, fresh bread and butter. Absolutely beautiful. The owner actually spoke to us and told us that he had spent a 6 month stint in Galway working in a hotel to improve his English.
After the photos were taken and the smokes finished up we travelled on to the island of Quiberon (On the suggestion of French Biker we met on the Ferry). Quiberon proved to be a little disappointing including lunch in Casino/restaurant which was a little stuffy for our casual dress and holiday frame of mind. Undeterred we made our way to the town of Pornic which was Approx 320 KM down the road from Roscoff. The trip was sunny and enjoyable and after some nice sight seeing stops we eventually reached our first campsite via an amazing bridge which I don't believe we have a picture of as there were no great stopping points on either side. The campsite was great with all of the mod cons including swimming pool, bar, restaurant, clean hot showers and did I mention a bar? Anyway we parked
up the bikes, donned the shorts and t shirts, pitched the tents and started the relaxing part.

Dinner included alcoholic beverage and was all very pleasant as the sun remained out till quite late in the evening. Derek bought a rare vintage bottle of wine on the way as a treat and offered us all a sample as we enjoyed a natter around the campsite before bed. Before the night was over Mick proceeded to spill over the bottle of expensive wine in the campsite dirt and Derek retaliated by stamping on Mick's glasses. We were fortunately able to repair them the following morning with gaffer tape and cable ties. They were after all his driving glasses.

Monday 2/9/13

The next morning we packed up and drove to the town of Pornic for breakfast. OMG what a beautiful harbour town bustling with people in the sunny weather. We parked up by the harbour and had coffee and crepes for breakfast. After that we took a short bike trip around the town The journey to the island of Ile de Re our next destination was Approx 200 KM away on a mix of motorway and beautiful country roads. The guys will remember the green canal we drove along for a couple of km's . I can only imagine what the green viscous fluid might have been. Suffice to say the be no fishes in there. Our first sighting of Ile de Re was when it's amazing access bridge appeared ahead of us. This beautiful bridge is the only way on and off the island and cost ⁡ mere 3 eur⁯s to tr⁡vel across. This
island was really beautiful and the plan was to stay for two days. We were so hot and tired when we arrived that we pulled into the first campsite we came across. Again a beautiful campsite and this time right next to the beach. Myself , Mick and Derek took to the beach once the bikes were parked up and tents pitched while Dermot and Clare decided that they would explore the town and hopefully find a nice spot to eat dinner later on. We had a beautiful meal in a restaurant across the road that night. On the way home while walking through the campsite we borrowed some plastic chairs to enhance our campsite banter and share the wine and choco purchased earlier by Dermot and Claire. Chairs were one of the few things we forgot to bring with us. Except for Derek that is. He had a great little
chair. In fact we had to lift him out of on many nights and put him to bed.

Tuesday 3/9/13

Woke to another beautiful sunny morning and took the bikes out to find somewhere nice for breakfast. We discovered the village of La Flotte. Another great find. Such a beautiful harbour village bustling with tourists. We had a breakfast of coffee, baguette and butter/jam, juice and croissant for something like a fiver. The views and athmosphere alone were worth more than that. Following breakfast we explored the village and came across a quaint food market set in the shade of what was once an old church cloister. We bought some fruit and healthy stuff there with a view to combatting all the unhealthy but yummy food and drink we had consumed up till then. In our minds it was going to undo all the damage :) We mounted the bikes again and travelled further around the island passing through
more beautiful villages until we came to St Martin which was calling us for a coffee break. We located ourselves at another scenic spot again by the harbour and ordered coffee.....great. By this stage it was getting very hot so decided to travel back to camp and crash out in the sun. We travelled back in T shirts....... Beautiful. The rest of the day was spent either in the shade of the campsite or in the case of Mick and Mark...on the beach which they had all to themselves. We drove back to La Flotte that night and had dinner there and adjourned to the campsite later on to tryout our newly acquired seating.

Wednesday 4/9/13

We were on our way to Arcachon. A trip of about 270km. We took the most scenic route and to save on mileage and for a bit of fun we decided to take the car ferry from Royan to Soulac sur Mer. Soulac had a great laid back seaside resort feel about it so we decided that it was the right place to stop and have lunch. I can do this life.... What a great day and we on occasion had to escape the heat by retreating to the shade. Because of all the wandering and sight seeing and smoking breaks we took during the day we arrived in Arcachon later than expected and wuddent you know the GPS let us down when trying to find our campsite. We eventually got speaking to a nice French lady who put us straight. The camp site was gorgeous and was located at the base of the Dune de Pyla which is the tallest
sand dune in Europe. Mick and Derek conquered the monster dune the following morning before coffee.

Derek off for a walk

Dune de Pyla

Descending Dune de Pyla

Thursday 5/9/13

Mick had a little mishap this morning with his bike sliding from under him on a sandy path while on the way out off the campsite. Sprained wrist, scratches on shoulder and forearm damaged some ribs but more importantly scratched pannier and wing mirror not to mention nice new helmet. He was not deterred in the slightest though and limped along undeterred. With more duct tape and cable ties we were on the road again. This time to San Sebastian and a journey of Approx 230 KM. The temperature decreased from a sizzling 37 degrees to 24 in San Sebastian. This is a city we should have spent more time in but unfortunately no sooner had we finished our coffees the local police threatened us with fines of 90 euro each for blocking an entrance and then moved us on. NOTE TO SELF…don’t park
in entrances in the future. The campsite in the mountains of San Sebastian was a real find and had a great bar and restaurant. We were limited however to two tents per pitch. Mark opted for separate pitch while Mick & Derek shared the one pitch. However next morning Mick & Derek discovered that a lone German Biker pitched his tent on their site during the night. German guy told them he was on his way to Portugal which was the only remaining country in Europe he hadn't visited. Dam Germans. They are so organised. Bet he didn't drink either.....

Coffee in San Sebastian…Why are those cops looking at our bikes?

Campsite in the mountains just out of San Sebastian.

Friday 6/9/13

Beautiful road to Jaca. A military town set in the lower Pyrenees. On the way we pulled into the most remote gas station in the world and met some blokes who we later labelled jokingly as the drug dealers. There were three of them all from England. Two were celebrating a birthday within a week of each other and had bought new bikes for themselves to celebrate the occasion, a new Triumph Tiger and a Harley. The third guy was driving a very flash Maserati (hence the drug dealer label). They were travelling through Europe at speed and kept in touch with the fast car by way of bluetooth. Basically the guys on the bikes spent their time chasing after the mad guy in the Maserati. Campsite in Jaca was great. Out in the middle of nowhere with its own swimming pool and bar /restaurant...mind
you the menu was limited and probably a little suspect after seeing the kitchen and the boozed up chef. None the less we ordered pizzas and chips and beer and survived. Pints were only €2.50. There was some rain that evening but thankfully it eased off later on to allow us dry access to our tents.

I’m wrecked man….

Linings from the Helmets and gloves being dried out over electric fire.

Saturday 7/9/13

We woke to the sound of deafening thunder and the lashing of rain on the tents. As I lay there at 7am the rain got heavier and heavier and the thunder louder. I knew that I needed to pack up some stuff in the tent and move it out before I started leaking. When I moved off my mattress to pack it away I had cause to lean onto the floor of the tent . It was like prodding a water mattress. My finger sunk at least two inches into the waterproof groundsheet before hitting hard ground. Jeese the rain was coming down so hard it had not time to soak into the ground and my tent had a river flowing beneath it. Luckily I was able to move everything across to the dryer wash room and avoid a catastrophe. The other guys followed suit soon afterwards. It was at that moment we decided that our next
night here was going to be in a chalet..and it was for only 60 euros. When the rain eased down we pulled our tents down and threw them over the lines in the wash room to dry off. We then headed into town for some breakfast . During breakfast the heavens opened again and I got some great video of the streets turning into rivers. The fire brigades were out in force too loading sandbags on low lying door ways and pumping out flooded areas. There was an amber weather warning in place but Derek thought it a gud idea to head off into the Pyrenees for some sight seeing.....Bad idea. About 20 Km out the road the heavens opened again. We were getting soaked and pulled into a gas station for some shelter. After a while we moved on from the shelter of the station...(mention no names) and were
no more than 2 km down the road when we had more thunder, lightening and a massive shower of hail stones. They were so big and hard coming down that they were hurting our hands and arms even through the gloves and rain gear. We had to take shelter again as the roads were now treacherous and white. The hail was ripping the leaves and small shoots from the trees. What an amazing site. Glad we had our tents lifted up and drying out on the wash room lines and that we were staying in a nice dry chalet tonight. Anyway on night two in Jaca we had some dinner in the campsite. Mark went in to check on our tents and helmets in the wash room. Tents were nearly dried out but Mark and Derek had left their helmets on a line just below a leaky roof and ended up with two helmets full of water...bummer.
Anyway we bought ourselves 4 great bottles of local wine in the reception for €3.50 a bottle and spent the rainy night in the chalet havin the craic, drinking wine and drying out our helmets. The receptionist even came over to share a glass of wine with us.

Sunday 8/9/13

Left Jaca and had brief stop for breakfast of cheesy slices of toasted baguette in a nice alpine looking hotel cafe. Met an English couple there who had come through the Pyrenees in the direction we were heading. They said that they had driven in 4 hours of rain…..but we were up for it. We headed off and went through a long tunnel (Approx. 10K) as we emerged from the Tunnel Derek indicated that his bike had lost power. We promptly rang the breakdown service and while waiting for a call back Mick discovered that Derek had accidentally hit the cut off switch (a senior moment). Now we were ready to roll again. Entered the Pyrenees and as the weather was wet we had a challenging ride but none the less beautiful. We did stop briefly for a few photos beside an old fortress. Continued on our
way and entered France and travelled on motorway until we reached Arcachon. Think there were some people along the way that knew us cause on a couple of occasions in the rear view mirror I could see their camera flashes presumably to capture the grace and speed with which we managed the lovely wide French roads. We booked into campsite for 1 night and had a pizza in the restaurant on site followed by a few beers. Jeese the booze here is not cheap @ 5.50 a pint.

Airing my towel in Arcachon.

Monday 9/9/13

Left Arcachon and headed back up to the beautiful island of Ile De Re once more. We checked out a different campsite fairly close to La Flotte village. Went for a meal in St Martin in a restaurant overlooking the sea. Bought some wine in the supermarket (4 bottles) and headed back to camp for yet another campsite session.

Tuesday 10/9/13

Had breakfast in La Flotte and decided to tour the island with stop offs in a few places. Went for meal in a restaurant called Pinnochio’s that night and Derek treated himself to a fine steak. Came home in the dark with more wine for more campsite drinking and a chat about the days events.

Wednesday 11/9/13

Went to beach at La Quarde and bought food and wine in local supermarket and had lunch on the beach. Another relaxing day was had by all.
Went for meal that night in a restaurant we had been to before at the entrance to the island and we had some great Leff beer with our food. Back at the campsite during our wine tasting Mark met some Irish folk from Wexford and Donabate with their dog and invited them to join us. They brought over more wine and I forget the detail after that...........

Thursday 12/9/13

With some sore heads we left Ile De Re sadly for the last time this year :( and headed off to Le Mont Saint-Michel . Nothing to report along the way as we stuck to the motorway to make up for our extra day on Ile De Re. We arrived in Mont St Michel around 5pm and found a very nice campsite. Camping for the night would have been 13 euro each but on account of Mick being so delicate a committee decision was taken to rent a Chalet @ 28 euro each. Good decision as night was wet. Took a spin out to see Mont St Michel monument/site and took some photos in the late evening sun. On yet another occasion during our trip we were told to move on as we had broken all the rules and took the bikes right down to the town instead of using the shuttle bus….sure how wud we know we were tourists!!!

Le Mont Saint Michel

Friday 13/9/13

We had booked breakfast at campsite (Mont St Michel) (very civilised) and enjoyed it in the comfort of the site restaurant while watching the rain falling on the swimming pool outside. The misty rain did ease off and we headed back to the town of Mont St Michel this time obeying the rules and parking in the designated place and taking the shuttle bus. It was in fact a very organised system with secure bike parking and a free shuttle bus to the town. The visitors centre also hosted a museum and security lockers for those not wanting to carry their valuables around with them. We went into the town and did all the tourist things including buying fridge magnets and paying 10 euro for coffee and a slice of cake. What a magnificent feat of human engineering was this town. At around midday or
there abouts we set off for Roscoff and while on the way stopped at roadside café and came upon a group of 42 Dutch Riders on their way to Ireland. They are all members of “Railtoerweekend” Group. Mark met the organiser Teun and arranged meeting up back in Dublin following their tour of Ireland. We arrived in Roscoff early and decided to visit the town. Stopped for a beer and walk about. Surprised what a nice quaint town Roscoff actually is with lots of pastry shops and cafes to dream away the days. After a long wait in the car park and much banter with the crazy Dutch bikers we finally boarded. Mark & Derek reserved a table in the Posh restaurant and we enjoyed a nice meal there and of course ate way too much food ....cause it was all so beautiful.... Unfortunately we were so wrecked
afterwards we had to hit the hay by 11pm.

Crazy Dutch Bikers having coffee on a warm but overcast morning on our way back to the ferry in Roscoff.

Main course in the posh restaurant on the Pont Aven.

Beautiful starter from the Posh Restaurant on the Pont Aven. Did I mention that we all had two starters before main course. Well we were on our holidays.

Saturday 14/9/13

Disembarked at around 10.30am and headed out to first Petrol Station in Shanbally. After fill up and some breakfast rolls we set off for Dublin with the prearranged plan to stop in Urlingford for last coffee break. Mick & Derek said goodbye to Mark and left for Dublin. Mark in the meantime was heading to Johnstown, Kilkenny to meet his family.

Steaming our way into Cork. Beautiful.

Notes for reader:

The trip brought us through north western France along the west coast by the Bay of Biscay over the Pyrenees and into northern Spain. We covered approx 3,506 KM during the two weeks. The bikes caused us no trouble except for a blown bulb in Marks headlight and Derek pretending that his bike was broken down when in fact he just had the emergency stop switch turned on. BTW Derek also got locked outa his phone and it was only after 48 hours and some official calls home that the PUK up was sorted. If you notice that the above report has an unusually high reference to beer and wine its only because we drank a hell of a lot. Mick is currently recuperating in Balbriggan after some minor mishaps along the way and Mark had to start back in work on Monday.

Notable facts;

Mick has the best stove with its built in ignitor.
Mark has the best torch.
Derek has the best boozing chair..You can’t fall off it.
Mick won’t be wearing shorts on the or near his bike again.
Derek has made a note to himself to keep away from the kill switch on his bike.
Mark will bring more than one pair of underpants on the next trip.
People should not fiddle with the settings on their phones unless they know what they are doing otherwise they will PUK things up.
Definition: Glamping as I understand it means glamorous camping.
Mark reckoned that the most useful pieces of kit he brought with him and served him the best were his mini hammer for the tent pegs, his Hein Gericke PVC stuff bag and his self inflating mattress.
Of course can’t forget the duct tape which got us all outa a bind from time to time.
Although it tended to be a little temperamental on occasion and sometimes brought us down the weirdest of roads the GPS was also an invaluable little box of tricks…except for that time in Arcachon.
Bikes gave us no problems and just chewed up the miles and the heavy loads they were burdened with.
Mark and Jason met some of the Dutch guys as arranged on the boat earlier in the week. They met Teun the group Leader and Cornelis the sweeper bus driver in the Quays bar in Temple bar and had a great night discussing Ireland, the economy, the Nederland’s and all things Bikes. Real nice guys and they invited the lads on their next road trip to Turkey in 3 years time to which Jason and Mark willingly accepted.

This is a general map of the places we either stayed or passed through.